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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262922">all of our faces</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime'>Myrime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Howard Stark's Good Parenting, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Marriage, Marvel Trumps Hate 2019, Protective Tony Stark, SHIELD Agent Steve Rogers, Secret Identity, Secrets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:33:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262922</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Married life has done wonders for Tony. He has mostly cut down on his working hours, he eats regularly, he takes care not to accidentally blow himself up in his lab. Life is good. </p><p>Then Steve comes home bleeding and that carefully built house of cards threatens to fall apart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Marvel Trumps Hate 2019</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all of our faces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0nystark1er/gifts">t0nystark1er</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Much later than I hoped, but here is my first entry for Marvel Trumps Hate 2019. Thank you t0nystark1er for the prompt and your ideas. I hope you like what I made of it. </p><p>Enjoy!</p><p><a href="https://auggusst-art.tumblr.com/">auggusst-art</a> did this <a href="https://auggusst-art.tumblr.com/post/623097002094395392/another-kofi-sketch-this-ones-for-blancheludis">wonderful art</a> for the story. Go check it out!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve is late. That in itself is no reason to worry, but Tony has become practised at estimating when Steve will stay late at work. It all depends on how much he fusses in the morning, how often he tells Tony he loves him, with words or kisses or smiles.</p><p>Everything was fine this morning. When Steve came back from his run, they had breakfast together, after which Tony did his best to make Steve late by joining him in the shower. Still, Steve seemed to want to linger when he went down to the garage to drive off to work.</p><p>Steve <em>said</em> he would be home by six. Now it is almost eight and Tony is getting nervous. He is being stupid, of course, because Steve can take care of himself, but considering that both their working hours are crazy, two less hours they can spend together in the evening is a real loss.</p><p>Dinner is cooking on the stove when Tony finally hears the door open. He glares at the pasta sauce as if it is at fault for him becoming emotional when he is missing his husband.</p><p>“Darling, I’m home,” Steve calls. That is something Tony will never get tired of. The pet names. The fact that they have a home together, that <em>he</em> is home for Steve.</p><p>“I'm in the kitchen,” Tony calls back and turns up the stove to get the pasta boiling.</p><p>“I’ll be right with you,” Steve says, accompanied by the shoe cabinet opening and closing. Contrary to Tony, Steve always puts his shoes away instead of just throwing them in a corner. “I’ll just take a shower first.”</p><p>Tony is not sure what compels him to go out in the hall. There is nothing wrong with Steve wanting to clean up before dinner. He has had a strange feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach all evening, however, and he needs to make sure that Steve is really there and all right. They usually greet each other before anything else too. Steve cannot be dirty enough to warrant an immediate shower before kissing Tony.</p><p>The light in the hall is still turned off, but Tony left the kitchen door open, so he can see Steve well enough. The pit in his stomach immediately widens. The first thing he notices is the cut running down Steve’s left temple. A smudge of reddish brown has Steve’s hair sticking together over his ear, and the outlines of a bruise are already visible against Steve’s pale skin.</p><p>Tony freezes in place, unsure how to deal with the fact that his husband has come home visibly wounded. With actual <em>blood</em> sticking to the side of his face.</p><p>Steve’s expression does not help. It is a mixture of a grimace and pinched regret. He opens his mouth, no doubt to make sense of things but Tony gets there first.</p><p>“Why are you bleeding?” Tony does not recognize his voice, too flat and too hoarse. He still cannot move.</p><p>“I’m not –” Steve begins, then changes track with a sheepish smile as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. “That’s just a small scratch.”</p><p>“Small as in running along the entire left side of your face,” Tony clarifies. With a jerk, he steps forward, right into Steve’s space.</p><p>“Just on the temple,” Steve says and tries to move his head out of Tony’s reach. He does not fight, though, when Tony cups his jaw and holds him in place to better look at the cut.</p><p>It has been cleaned already and appears shallow enough to not need any stitches. Tony is no expert, of course, and he would prefer to wrap Steve’s entire head in bandages as to not risk to do just the slightest bit wrong here. Head wounds are dangerous, right?</p><p>“How did this happen?” Tony asks, a bad feeling spreading inside his chest. He knows how this happened. Not any details, but Steve’s line of work offers dozens of opportunities to get hurt every day.</p><p>“We were cataloguing some stuff down in the archive.” Steve smiles slightly, but his eyes are too attentive to make his bashful expression believable. “They should really take better care with how they stack the crates. Long story short, I was clumsy and knocked over a tower. Didn’t pull my head away quickly enough. Phil’s spent the whole time complaining about the paperwork he’ll have to fill out because of this.”</p><p>Crates down in the museum archive. Of course. And Steve is always so clumsy, Tony <em>totally</em> noticed that before.</p><p>Without a word, he pulls Steve towards the kitchen where the light is better. He half hopes that Steve will protest because seeing his husband hurt puts Tony in a mood to yell at something – preferably Steve himself for not taking better care of himself.</p><p>In the kitchen, he pushes Steve into a chair and says, “Let me see.”</p><p>Steve tilts his head obligingly, even while he protests. “It’s already taken care of. Don’t worry.”</p><p>Tony stills for a moment to better glare at Steve. “Don’t tell me not to worry when my husband is bleeding.”</p><p>It could be worse, Tony tells himself as he looks at the cut. He could have taken some serious damage and not come home at all. Tony might have gotten a call from Coulson or Barton telling him that, once again, Steve would not be home tonight. Even with obvious signs of damage, Tony prefers Steve to be within touching distance.</p><p>“Your husband’s a big boy,” Steve says, although he is kind about it. He likes to fuzz over Tony too.</p><p>Tony has no interest in being kind at the moment, however, and snaps, “Who is shit at taking care of himself. So sit down and let me get the first-aid kit.”</p><p>He has not yet moved more than a foot away when Steve’s hand reaches out and grabs his arm, holding him back. “Tony,” he says, almost a plea.</p><p>While Tony stays where he is, he is careful not to appear like he is giving in. “Steve.”</p><p>They stare at each other for a long moment, right until Tony’s eyes wander back to the spot of red on Steve’s temple.</p><p>“It’s really all right,” Steve says. “Coulson wouldn’t let me go home without making sure.”</p><p>That might be the case because Coulson is, above all else, very correct when it comes to proper protocol, but that does not change the fact that Steve is hurt.</p><p>“Where else?” Tony asks. He pulls his arm out of Steve’s grasp and crosses it in front of himself.</p><p>Steve does a passably good impression of being confused, pulling up his eyebrows and looking down at himself as if searching for whatever made Tony think there is more he is hiding.</p><p>“Where else what?” he asks, offering his hand again, hoping Tony will take it. “I’ve only got the one scratch.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” Tony snaps, making Steve wince, although he does not take any satisfaction from that. He is worried, not angry. Not much, in any case. “You were walking funny, so what is it? Your rib again? Or something more serious?” Treating this as a technical problem is easier than thinking about his husband being hurt. “You’re not bleeding, like, internally, yes? Because I’m not equipped to handle that at home.”</p><p>Steve’s eyes widen as he looks at Tony. Not exactly as if he thinks Tony has gone mad, but like Steve is not sure how they got here and how he can manoeuvre them back out. Employees of the Smithsonian do not regularly get internal bleeding while working. Steve knows that, and Tony knows that too. Which makes it clear that Tony knows something <em>more</em>. More than he is supposed to.</p><p>“I’m not – Tony, I got in the way when a crate fell to the ground,” Steve says, sticking to his story. “Where do you get the idea that I could have internal bleeding?”</p><p>It hurts, Tony realises. He loves Steve, more than he ever thought he could love anything, and he is reasonably sure that Steve loves him too. Yet he comes home with blood on his face and pain mirrored on his features, and <em>lies</em> to Tony. For some honourable reason, probably, but Tony is tired of it.</p><p>He turns around and fishes the first-aid kit out of a kitchen cupboard. They have several of them stacked around the house, Tony made sure of that once he noticed Steve's tendency to come home hurt.</p><p>“Did someone actually look you over?” Tony asks, ignoring Steve’s attempts to brush this off. “You might have a concussion.”</p><p>He is not equipped to deal with anything more than a scratch, and he is not willing to risk his husband’s well-being just to keep up a lie.</p><p>Steve shifts to put his hand on Tony’s where it is clenched around the lid of the first-aid kit. Despite having half a mind to ignore the gesture, Tony turns his hand so they can intertwine their fingers. The contact helps. It anchors Tony in the present, where Steve is sitting in front of him</p><p>Only then Steve opens his mouth. “I’m really all right.”</p><p>That is likely meant to sound reassuring, but it is the last straw for Tony. “You’re a shit liar,” he snaps and snatches his hand away from Steve’s again.</p><p>He turns to the first-aid kit and gets out butterfly stitches for the cut on Steve's temple. It takes effort to keep his movements measured instead of turning around to simply tug up Steve’s shirt to look for more wounds himself. He can get a hint when he is meant to back off, but he hates it.</p><p>“I’m not –” Steve begins but wisely shuts up when Tony whirls around to glare at him.</p><p>“Don’t they check you agents before sending you home after a mission?”</p><p>Steve’s reaction to <em>agents</em> and <em>mission</em> is easily visible, even if Tony had not been looking for it. His shoulders draw up, his entire posture straightens, ignoring whatever wound he is hiding under his shirt. Too late he remembers to look confused.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, too alert to be believable – not that Tony would have.</p><p>This is the last opportunity for Tony to keep up the status quo. He can make a joke about the museum throwing their employees at artefacts like lemmings over a cliff. He could feign ignorance like he has done for the past two years of their marriage – even before that, really.</p><p>Tony is tired of this, however, so he says, much calmer than he feels, “Steve, I know you’re not working for the Smithsonian.” A small smile tugs at Tony’s lips and he does not fight it. “That’s honestly the most generic secret identity, and I don’t know who thought you could pull it off. The only thing you actually know something about is art. And not even art history, just pen-on-paper art.”</p><p>If Tony had been actually interested in talking in-depth about whatever exhibits Steve was supposedly acquiring or caring for at his fake job at the Smithsonian, it would not have taken any time at all for Tony to realize that Steve was full of shit. If he had not known, that would have likely felt like a betrayal.</p><p>“Are <em>you </em>all right?” Steve counters, suddenly very calm. The genuine, exhausted smile has been replaced by something strained, pursed lips beneath watchful eyes. Between the two of them, it is really just Tony who can lie in any capacity.</p><p>Tony shrugs, although the gesture feels everything but nonchalant. “Don’t worry. I’m not angry you didn’t tell me, although I hope you would have at some point,” he says. His eyes are turned down, trained on his hands to keep them from fiddling. “I mean, you could have died at any time and I would have never known the real reason and that would suck. But I get it.”</p><p>He is starting to ramble. So much for being a good liar. The mere thought of losing Steve is too much to consider. He never felt whole before Steve stepped into his life and now he cannot imagine ever being without him again.</p><p>There are downsides, like Barton getting constantly in trouble, or Natasha regularly threatening all of them with bodily harm, or Sam and Bucky’s constant bickering, which has only gotten worse since they manned up and got into a relationship together.</p><p>Steve’s friends are part of the upside too, but mostly there is just Steve. Steve completing Tony’s life. Steve making Tony into a better person, Steve being there to catch him, Steve loving him.</p><p>He <em>cannot</em> lose that. He does not care for national security at all as long as Steve will always come home to him.</p><p>“Calm down, Tony,” Steve says, sounding like he is very far away, but Tony will always hear him.</p><p>Steve’s voice grounds him like nothing else in the world does. The unease is not gone, but Tony shakes his head and smooths his expression into something less desperate. Better to keep busy.</p><p>“Perhaps once I made sure you’re not going to die,” Tony replies flippantly, uncurling his shoulders as if that can erase the fact that he feels like he is going crazy. His hand taps an erratic pattern against his leg as he orders, “Take off your shirt.”</p><p>Steve does not move. His face is that painfully tense kind of collected that means his thoughts are racing while he is trying to stay ahead of them. At his side, his fingers twitch like he wants to reach out for Tony, but he ultimately keeps his distance. Tony tells himself that does not hurt.</p><p>“I feel like we should talk about this first,” Steve says, his voice too calm.</p><p>Tony really does not want to do that. That would mean admitting that Steve has lied to him for years and that Tony let him. They have a good system going on. They love each other, and if Steve occasionally stays away for entire weeks because the museum apparently needs him to go unearth some artefact from Egypt himself, Tony kissed him goodbye and made sure that he has Steve’s favourite food in the house for when he comes back.</p><p>They do not need to hash out why exactly Tony did not believe that story but went digging into Steve’s personal matters the second time he came home after these extended trips, showering Tony with love but lying about everything else.</p><p>“What’s there to talk about?” Tony asks, wincing at how high-pitched he sounds. “You’re working for SHIELD. You’re some kind of special agent, along with happy-go-lucky Clint and ex-soviet spy Natasha. You didn’t think I’d believe she got her murder strut from ballet, right? And Coulson’s the one who makes sure you don’t get yourself killed on every mission you get sent on.”</p><p>He keeps his voice even. Too even perhaps, considering the topic. When he first found out, he was one wrong movement away from snapping. His husband, gentle Steve Rogers who could not hurt a fly, is supposed to be a secret agent, defending their country from dangers from all directions?</p><p>Then again, Steve has never been harmless. Put a bully in his path, or the slightest case of inequality, and the whole day is going to end in a mess of fists and arguments. That passion is one of the reasons Tony has fallen in love with Steve. It is just harder to swallow that Steve has made it his day job to put himself in danger on other people’s behalf.</p><p>Steve is staring at him, his mouth slightly open like he is prepared to argue but does not yet know how. His effort is already ruined by the too long pause and the shock on his face. “That’s not –”</p><p>“No lies, please,” Tony cuts him off, trying to keep any accusation out of his voice. “I know you can’t tell me about it, but please don’t insult me by pretending it’s not true.”</p><p>Tony naturally wishes Steve had told him, no matter whether he is allowed to or not, but that is not the point here. Most of all, he is worried about Steve’s safety.</p><p>In front of him, Steve seems to shrink. The pretence of confused calm falls off him, leaving him just tired and worried.</p><p>“How do you know about that?” he asks, subdued as if he expects Tony to jump up and run out on him. “Since when?”</p><p>“Easy, I hacked SHIELD.”</p><p>None of that was easy. Tony’s first thought had been that his husband was cheating on him. Truly, that was the option that made the most sense. Steve went to work in one shirt and came back in another. He cancelled dates or just did not show up. His stories about work always seemed a little too practised. And if the Smithsonian really had working hours like that, it would be nothing but an abandoned ruin by now.</p><p>Steve was never at home and always had bad excuses for it. Or, worse, he had Clint covering for him. And while Clint is much better at lying, he never managed to hide the pity in his eyes when Tony was rejected again and again.</p><p>Cheating was the most sensible solution. Yet Tony did not want to believe it. Turns out, life is sometimes kinder than he expects it to be. Which, of course, left him with the actual possibility of Steve not coming home one day because he died on a mission.</p><p>“You –” Steve trails off, eyes wide enough that it looks they are going to fall out. “What?”</p><p>The sight has Tony almost laughing, if not for the fact that he did not trust his husband and went digging for his secrets. Really, Steve should not be surprised. Present Tony with a mystery and he does not stop until he has solved it, even if that means hurting himself in the process. He was convinced he would find evidence of Steve not wanting him, after all.</p><p>“Well, SHIELD and about every other government agency,” Tony replies with fake nonchalance. He expects Steve to take offence to that. “Some from abroad too. I didn’t exactly look at you and thought you’re a SHIELD guy. It took me a while but I found you.”</p><p>He found Steve and his redacted military records and his SHIELD file and a countless number of missions all over the world. He found his father’s signature on Steve’s contract. He found his own name in a section called <em>Possible Conflicts of Interest</em>.</p><p>Suffice to say it was a punch to the gut and Tony over-analysed every interaction he had with Steve for weeks, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing happened. Steve continued to go to work, and he continued to tell Tony he loved him with the same fervour. Tony learned to deal with Steve’s secret life. What really matters is the time they spend together.</p><p>“When?” Steve asks quietly as if he does not want to know, as if he is not done processing that Tony found out and never told him.</p><p>“Two years ago.”</p><p>They have been married for three. Tony thinks swallowing Steve’s lies for a whole year before he went looking for answers on his own is a lot longer than he would have believed himself capable of. Part of him did not want to know, of course, because he thought <em>he</em> was the problem.</p><p>Steve closes his eyes and turns his head as if he cannot bear to look at Tony any longer. “I – and you never said –” He stumbles over the words as if they hurt him. With visible effort, he forces his eyes back open. “You’re not angry?”</p><p>Tony takes Steve’s hand and waits until Steve looks at him. “No,” he then answers simply.</p><p>He had been angry, of course. At the same time, he had been so relieved that he was not going to lose Steve to some other lover that he almost made his peace with it. He naturally has been keeping tabs on Steve since then, and might have put a tracker in his phone. Just in case.</p><p>Steve believes him. Nothing else could explain the way he suddenly clings to Tony’s hand as if it is the only thing keeping him from drowning. With a long, halting exhale, Steve shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say. I never wanted to lie to you, but they’re strict about that and I thought you might be safer this way, and I didn’t want to –”</p><p>“Steve,” Tony cuts him off softly. It is usually him who starts rambling when nervous. To see Steve lose his head like that just makes him believe they will be fine, no matter their respective breaches of trust. “It’s all right. We’re good. You’re home.”</p><p>And Steve is right, of course, about SHIELD agents being contractually obliged to keep their employment secret. Since Tony is the son and godson of both founders, however, he thinks they could have made an exception for him.</p><p>That is something he will have to argue about with his father, though. Not Steve. Personally, he considers that topic done for now, although he has no doubts that Steve will want to talk to him about his liberal breach of government agencies’ servers. For now, it is more important to take care of whatever wounds Steve is still hiding.</p><p>“Now, take off that shirt,” Tony orders again and does not wait for Steve’s acquiescence before tugging up the hem himself.</p><p>Steve hesitates for just another moment and then works on getting his left arm out of the shirt without extending it over the head. That has immediate alarm bells going off in Tony’s head. A growl escapes his throat as he thinks about how he is going to find out who did this to his husband and make their life a living hell from behind the scenes. Nobody ever needs to know it was him, but he will not let anyone get away with hurting Steve.</p><p>He did not expect that to make Steve stop his movement or to look at him with sudden hunger.</p><p>“What about dinner?” Steve asks, entirely too eager for him to be talking about the pasta cooking behind them.</p><p>Realization hits Tony when he looks down and finds his hand pressed possessively against Steve’s stomach, always seeking out Steve’s warmth. That Steve is ready to jump into bed with him after the revelations of this evening is hopefully a good sign.</p><p>“Get your head out of the gutter,” Ton says nonetheless and peels his hand off Steve’s skin. He feels the loss of contact dearly. “I want to have a look at whatever other bruises you have gathered from not getting out of the way of a falling tower of crates. I mean, really, Steve?” He clicks his tongue. “The Smithsonian?”</p><p>Too soon to joke about it, Tony realizes when Steve’s eyes drop down, biting his lip. “I’m sorry,” he says, almost on the verge of withdrawing completely.</p><p>Tony cannot let that happen, so he cups Steve’s jaw and puts their foreheads together for a moment. “You can make it up to me later.”</p><p>That is as much a question as it is a promise, and Tony sighs in relief when Steve relaxes in his touch immediately.</p><p>“Now who’s thinking dirty?” Steve asks, the corners of his mouth just barely tipping up. His tone lacks the usual suggestiveness and comes out more hesitant, hopeful even.</p><p>“I always have dirty thoughts when I’m with you,” Tony quips, deciding that they need to get back to normal as quickly as possible. Nothing has changed, really, apart from Steve knowing that Tony has been aware for years of what he has really been doing at work. “But first we’re going to look at your bruises.”</p><p>Tony really, really hopes it is just bruises hiding under Steve’s shirt instead of more blood. He is not sure he could stomach that inescapable evidence of how much danger Steve is in on a daily basis.</p><p>Steve keeps looking at Tony for a moment longer, trying to see whether Tony is telling the truth. Then he leans slightly backward to give him more room to manoeuvre and tugs up his shirt. “I’m already bandaged up. It’s fine, I promise.”</p><p>True enough, a bandage circles Steve’s torso, sitting right under his left armpit. It looks like it was done by someone who knows what they are doing. Beneath that, however, are still streaks of dried blood staining Steve’s skin.</p><p>“I like to wash up at home,” Steve offers quietly when Tony cannot drag his eyes away from the blood.</p><p>He cannot deal with this. Knowing Steve is a secret agent is one thing, but seeing him hurt is another. One that has nausea rising in his stomach, and his breathing going shallow despite Steve sitting in front of him, telling him everything is all right.</p><p>Tony turns away abruptly back to the kitchen counter, where dinner is still on the stove and likely completely ruined.</p><p>“How about you take a shower while I finish dinner? I’m starving.” That is a blatant lie. The only thing Tony needs right now is to go to bed with Steve and be held so he can convince himself that nothing bad is ever going to happen.</p><p>Steve gets to his feed and comes up behind Tony, sneaking his arms around him. Like this, he can feel Steve’s ribcage rising and falling. They breathe together for a long minute until Tony turns in Steve’s embrace and buries his face against the crook of Steve’s neck.</p><p>“We’re really all right?” Steve asks, barely more than a whisper.</p><p>That is what gives Tony enough strength to straighten. “I love you, Steve,” he intones firmly. There will never be any doubt about that. “I’ve known for two years and I’m still here. Just promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks. I need you to always come home to me.”</p><p>His voice cannot convey the sheer amount of urgency he feels, but Steve’s expression softens in a way that tells Tony he understands nonetheless.</p><p>“I promise,” Steve says and bows down to place a kiss on Tony’s forehead. “I love you too.”</p><p>They could stay like this forever and Tony would die a happy man. It is hard to imagine things not working out while he is being held safe in Steve’s arms. They will be all right.</p><p>They finally part when the air is beginning to smell burnt and smoke starts rising from the pasta sauce. Tony curses and whirls around to save how much of it as he can. Steve moves towards the pot containing the pasta, which is probably beyond saving now too.</p><p>“We should eat this before I shower,” Steve comments lightly, probably too polite to suggest they scrap dinner altogether and order some pizza.</p><p>Looking down at the burned blob of sauce, Tony feels something rise in his throat that he fears is a sob. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead of words laughter bursts over his lips, slightly hysterical but originating from deep inside his belly. Steve looks at him in shock, thrown by the sudden outburst, but soon enough his expression breaks and he joins in the laughter.</p><p>Minutes pass before they manage to calm themselves, constantly setting each other off again. Tony’s abdomen burns from the strain and at some point, they start holding on to each other. When silence finally settles, they look at each other, faces flushed and out of breath.</p><p>“Come on,” Steve says, “I do want to eat something.”</p><p>Tony wants to protest, but Steve is already getting plates out of the cupboard, so he decides to take his failure in stride and puts the sauce on the table.</p><p>“Does Clint actually use a bow and arrow?” Tony asks when they are both seated and pick at their food. The good mood has not vanished again and he desperately wants to keep it that way. “It’s in his file and I can imagine him in tights but, I mean, is that whole agency a freak show?”</p><p>Steve grins before he catches on and schools his expression into something more serious. “We’re not a freak show.”</p><p>To Tony, he does not sound entirely convinced of that himself.</p><p>“Says the guy who runs around with a modern Robin Hood, a murderous ballerina and a guy who can recite every regulation, even from a place he’s not actually working at, from heart,” Tony quips. Out of all of Steve’s friends, Phil Coulson, despite how mild-mannered he is, always seemed the most likely to work for a government agency. “What does that make you? Captain America?”</p><p>Not a single muscle of Steve’s twitches out of place. For once, he does not give anything away. “Dinner’s getting cold,” he says as if that is a concern. The food can hardly get any worse.</p><p>Tony taps his fork against the plate. “You can’t even deflect properly,” he says with exaggerated disappointment. “Where’s that James Bond charm? Do you want me to teach you?”</p><p>A hint of a smile appears on Steve’s lips, which Tony counts as a victory. “You made my favourite,” he says and puts a forkful of quickly disintegrating pasta into his mouth.</p><p>“Oh, I get it,” Tony says, amazed by Steve’s willingness to eat just to keep Tony from asking any more questions. “You slay them with your stubbornness. That’s a good strategy. But only in theory. Because if they already know something’s up you’ll –”</p><p>The rest of Tony’s words get drowned out by Steve’s lips on his, who has leaned over the table, food entirely forgotten. Without protest, Tony reciprocates the kiss. He has a long memory, so he can continue his teasing later. He has waited two years for this, after all. At one point, they should also talk seriously about this.</p><p>For now, though, they will enjoy dinner. Perhaps Tony will even let Steve serve dessert first. He is easy to please like that.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After dinner – or after they finally stopped pretending to eat – Tony sends Steve off to take that shower. He waits until he can hear the water running before he gets out his phone and calls his father.</p><p>He cannot get the sight of blood on Steve’s skin out of his head, and he feels the burning need to talk to someone about it. Preferably someone who can do something to keep Steve safe.</p><p>While the dial tone rings in Tony’s ear, he brings the pot with the ruined sauce to the sink and fills it with water, watering down the red remains to something pink. Tony shudders. Steve might be seeing that exact same colour in the shower right now.</p><p>“Tony, it’s late,” Howard says by way of greeting when the call connects. As far as Tony can hear, it is not meant as an accusation, and Howard does not sound drunk. Sometimes the old man gets into terrible moods and makes life unnecessarily hard on everybody. “Did something happen?”</p><p>Tony snorts in response. Too much is happening that he is not privy too.</p><p>“I’m so glad you asked,” Tony replies, a hard edge beneath the words. “Because my husband just came home bleeding, telling me some bullshit story about falling crates in a museum archive.”</p><p>There is a short pause at the other end, in which Howard breathes deeply. “Steve got hurt at the Smithsonian?”</p><p>If Tony had not allowed himself to be fooled for the first years of his relationship with Steve, he would laugh at what terrible liars they all are. It is like they <em>want</em> him to become suspicious. Or, if he looked at it in a more favourable way, they might not like having to lie to him.</p><p>“Not you too, Dad,” Tony snaps, rapidly running out of patience. He can joke around with them all day long if he has to, pretending to be clueless, but Steve was hurt enough to be unable to move his arm. That is serious. “Listen, I know he’s with SHIELD. I’ve known for ages.”</p><p>Another pause. This one is less amicable and much shorter.</p><p>“How?”</p><p>No more denial, no more lies. Howard is down to business, his voice hard, even if he does not appear to be surprised. They might have regular arguments about how to lead Stark Industries, but Howard knows that Tony is smart. Smarter than is really good for him, at times.</p><p>“I mean, <em>you</em> couldn’t keep SHIELD a secret from Mum and me,” Tony says without giving a clear answer. “And you were just one of the founders instead of going out in the field for days or weeks at a time and coming home with new scars.”</p><p>He remembers having been stupidly excited when he found out that his father worked for a secret agency. That was like something straight out of a story. Even more so when he learned Aunt Peggy was Howard’s partner. Aunt Peggy, who was as likely to pick him up from school to treat him to ice cream as she was to teach him how to pick locks.</p><p>“All of this is classified information,” Howard says with the long-suffering tone of someone who knows that the damage is already done – and that there will be more. They do know each other well.</p><p>“And I’m not going to spread it,” Tony dismisses easily. He has no interest in politics or accidentally starting a war by selling information to the wrong person. He just wants to keep his family safe. “I didn’t even when you killed my pet robot, and I was furious with you then.”</p><p>He has no actual interest in revising that old story. That robot had been the first of many, and it kept following everybody around the house for weeks. Howard had taken one look at it and declared it a waste of time, but never protested when the dog made his office into its favourite place in the house. Tony likes to think that was the point where he and his father came to an understanding about what Tony will do with his brain.</p><p>“I didn’t kill him,” Howard protests with the same old indignation that has accompanied this argument for years. “Someone was in the house and I needed parts. It’s not my fault it followed me everywhere.”</p><p>Tony and his mother had been on a trip. When they came back and found not only the dog dead but that someone had broken into the home and Howard fought them off all by himself, Tony was very disappointed that he missed the whole thing. These days, personal safety is of much more importance.</p><p>“It was programmed to protect the family, and it lacked some self-preservation,” Tony argues, not quite an absolution but a concession. In a sly tone, he adds, “A bit like Steve, don’t you think?”</p><p>Steve is both loyal to a fault and unable to shirk any fight presented to him. If Bucky’s stories are to be believed, he has always been like that, even when he barely reached up to the bullies’ belly button. He loves art but, considering his personality, it is laughable to assume he would work in a museum instead of becoming a real-life hero.</p><p>“Tony,” Howard sighs, drawn-out, as if Tony has ever been one to be impressed by reproaches. ”This is part of why we don’t tell spouses. There is nothing I can do.”</p><p>Tony is not just any spouse, though, and he has never stopped at anything before he got what he wants. Right now, he wants Steve save, and Howard is in the perfect position to make that happen – or at least to make it more likely that Steve will keep coming home to Tony.</p><p>“Oh yes, there is,” Tony says, voice full of fake cheer.</p><p>He holds the phone away from him for a moment to listen for the sound of running water. It would not do to have Steve listen in on this conversation. Once he is satisfied that Steve is still occupied, he puts the phone back against his ear.</p><p>His father is talking, likely holding a speech about why exactly Tony cannot get involved in this matter, but he does not bother to listen. He has every intention to be involved.</p><p>He clears his throat and seizes his chance to talk when Howard makes an irritated pause.</p><p>“Here’s what you will do,” Tony says, no more trace of joking in his tone. “You will triple check everything you have on every mission you send him on. You will give him every support he needs, even if he says he <em>doesn’t</em> need any.” Accounting for Steve’s stubbornness surely will be the hardest part. “And when he comes back, you will make sure he goes through medical, even if he just went out to bring a letter to the post office. You’ll check him from head to toe. I don’t care whether that means he’ll be home a bit later. I might be able to bandage a scratch, but I cannot do anything if he dies in his sleep because his headache was hiding a brain haemorrhage nobody noticed because he said he was fine and you believed him.”</p><p>Steve has come home wounded before. He does a good job of hiding it, but once Tony knew to look, he saw all the little signs. The nights when Steve would wear long pyjamas even in summer. The mornings when he surprised Tony with breakfast instead of going on his extensive run. The days when he got a day off just like that. The evenings when Natasha supposedly went too hard on him during their workout.</p><p>“Every agent is supposed to check in with medical after a mission,” Howard says, although that is mostly a token protest.</p><p>“You know Steve. He’s always <em>fine,</em>” Tony says, almost spitting out the last word. He wonders whether this is how Steve feels when he has to drag Tony out of the workshop after a working binge, completely dehydrated and tired, but naturally willing to go on. “And right now, he’s washing a lot of blood off in our shower.”</p><p>Red flashes in Tony’s vision again, causing him to bite his lip until he is back in their kitchen, his knuckles white around the phone. Now that Steve is aware that Tony knows, he might agree to let Tony build him some better body armour. Metal plating, he thinks. From head to toe. No skin exposed that could bruise or bleed.</p><p>“I’ll see what I can do,” Howard says. Then, expecting Tony’s protest, he adds, “You know I love the both of you. Steve refuses to get special treatment just because he is married to you, but I’m always looking out for him.”</p><p>Tony had nursed many doubts before bringing Steve home with him. About whether his bisexuality would be a problem now that he was serious about another man to whether Howard would come to love Steve more than his own son. Steve <em>is</em> the loveable type, the very dream of all in-laws. They do love Steve, and Tony’s marriage just brought them all closer together.</p><p>He has no doubts that Howard is looking out for Steve. He just wants to make sure that Steve’s stubbornness is not going to win.</p><p>“I know, Dad,” Tony says quietly, staring in the direction of the bathroom. “I just can’t lose him.” The very thought feels like a crushing weight on his chest.</p><p>“We’ll all do our best that you won’t,” Howard promises. His voice is softer than any journalist has ever heard from him. It is nice, to be able to know this side of his father. At some points during Tony’s childhood, he was sure they would never have a friendly relationship.</p><p>“Great,” Tony exclaims, his voice choked with emotion. As if on cue, he hears the shower door clang. “The water stopped running so I gotta go. Greet Mum and Jarvis.”</p><p>Howard hesitates before he answers and Tony almost thinks they will attempt to talk about his feelings – or rather his fears. Then, however, Howard simply says, “Take care, Tony.”</p><p>Tony is relieved when the call disconnects. He should probably talk with his mother at some point. She knows how it feels to wonder whether her husband is going to come home.</p><p>He quickly turns to clear the table, but has barely managed to load the plates into the dishwasher, when Steve appears in the kitchen door.</p><p>A towel is slung around Steve’s hips, leaving his torso bare. The bandage is untouched, and the skin beneath it is once again clean. No hint of red in sight. Tony breathes in relief, even though he knows it will be some time until he can shake the memory of it.</p><p>“Who where you talking to?” Steve asks as he comes into the room. He sounds curious more than accusatory, although he should know who Tony’s conversation was about.</p><p>“Bruce,” Tony lies easily and greets Steve with a kiss before he turns back to the table. “He’s going to get me better supplies and show me how to take care of more serious wounds than that scratch.”</p><p>He does not quite manage to sound neutral. Learning advanced first-aid has never been on Tony’s wish list, especially not to patch up his husband. He will call Bruce, though. It never hurts to be prepared.</p><p>“Tony –” Steve says, almost a warning.</p><p>“It’s already done,” Tony replies tersely and glares at Steve, daring him to argue. “I could also throw a tantrum because you’re constantly putting yourself in danger as if you don’t care whether you’ll be able to come home at the end of the day. I care, Steve. If you died out there, I –” That weight on his chest becomes unbearably heavy, making it impossible to speak or breathe. The mere thought of losing Steve has him wrecked.</p><p>Steve, who was reaching for the pasta pot, immediately abandons the movement and turns to Tony, spreading his arms.</p><p>“Come here,” he says. He does not wait for Tony but steps closer himself, pulling Tony into a tight embrace.</p><p>Tony is afraid of putting pressure on the bandage and whatever wound lies beneath it, but Steve just holds him tighter, showing no sign of discomfort, so Tony allows himself to relax into Steve’s warmth.</p><p>This is the safest place on earth. Steve hums under his breath and the sound, barely more than a vibration, mingles with both their heartbeats. That eases the weight pressing down on Tony, a little more with every minute that passes with Steve close.</p><p>“Coming home to you will always be a priority to me, Tony,” Steve says, nothing but utter conviction in his tone. “You might say I’m a shit liar, but when we married, Peggy sat me down and asked whether that would be a problem, whether I could be trusted to concentrate on my work. I apparently passed muster. But there is no mission that is more important than you.”</p><p>Tony <em>knows</em> that. Ten years ago he might have been convinced he would die alone, having had one too many bad experiences with relationship. He trusts Steve completely, however. He trusts their love. He knows Steve will always want to come home to him. Hearing it said out loud makes it easier to believe it too.</p><p>“What if aliens invade Earth and try to kill us all?” Tony asks, aiming for a lighter tone, even though he does not make a move to step away. He could spend all of his days being held by Steve.</p><p>“I don’t think for a second you wouldn’t be the very first in line to get closer to them in hopes of finding out more about whatever tech they brought,” Steve replies dryly, and he is not wrong about that. “So I could stay close to you and say I’m doing my part in saving the world at the same time.”</p><p>Tony imagines that. Him bending over some alien machinery, while Steve stands over him, always vigilant, to protect him from any incoming enemies. Perhaps he could build metal suits for the both of them to better fend off the apocalypse.</p><p>“You’re ridiculous, do you know that?” he says out loud, although he does not doubt that Steve knows the way his thoughts have taken.</p><p>Steve leans down and puts their cheeks together, pressing a kiss against the soft skin of Tony’s neck. “And you love me.”</p><p>“I very much do,” Tony agrees, feeling the warmth of that in every fibre of his being.</p><p>“How about we go to bed?” Steve asks and Tony nods.</p><p>Neither of them moves, however, unwilling to let go of each other even for the few feet to their bedroom. That is all right. Tony is right where he wants to be. Home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p><p><a href="https://auggusst-art.tumblr.com/">auggusst-art</a> did this <a href="https://auggusst-art.tumblr.com/post/623097002094395392/another-kofi-sketch-this-ones-for-blancheludis">wonderful art</a> for the story. Go check it out!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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